


The Fabulous Destiny of Kurt Hummel

by ElizaGolightly



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaGolightly/pseuds/ElizaGolightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel has long since given up on achieving his dream but that doesn't mean he can't help Rachel, Santana and even the man with a notebook full of stolen photographs achieve theirs. (Amelie-inspired).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fabulous Destiny of Kurt Hummel

**Author's Note:**

> Not to detract from anything, but the last time I wrote anything for a fandom was approximately eight years ago. I have everything crossed that this is okay and at least one person enjoys it because there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing as to whether I would ever post it. But I'm being brave and giving you all an insight into what happens when I let myself watch Amélie late at night with a bottle of wine!

The sun is shining off of the Hudson and the air has a slight chill to it as Kurt Hummel walks along the Highline, reflecting on how exactly he ended up here. New York City. West Village. Cafe des deux Moulins. He’s twenty-five and he should be on Broadway. He shouldn’t be glancing at people making their commute below him, taxis beeping and a vibration just ahead, downtown. He should be in bed, or at a rehearsal. He should be illuminated by the lights of Times Square, his face plastered all over Playbills, ‘Kurt Hummel’ emblazoned across the sky in tiny glittering lights.

But instead his shoes click-clack along the tiles of the old railway line, down the stairs and along the cobbles towards his workplace. The tiny coffee shop, right in the heart of the West Village, stands proudly and sticks out like a sore thumb at the same time. Kurt adores how quaint it is, how they have regulars and how it should probably be a coffee shop out in the sticks, back home, and not in the middle of Manhattan. But it is what it is and it pays the rent and, most importantly, it ensures he never has to return to Lima.

He pushes open the door with all the effort it requires; a swift knock to the kickplate, three counter-clockwise twists of the handle before one final clockwise turn and a good nudge from a shoulder or a hip, to find Brittany spinning behind the counter as Carole sets the chairs under the tables.

“Hey, sweetie. Do you want to fire up the oven and get a pot on for us?” She smiles and he indulges her. She’s still the boss, even if she is actively pursuing his father. Brittany waves when she finally stills and starts pulling various mugs and glasses out of the dishwasher.

They work well together; they’ve always been a harmonious workforce. Every now and then Carole produces a microphone and instructs them to sing, to keep them practicing and ready for when the big break finally happens. She likes to encourage their future, would never dream of holding them back. “There’s always another barista wandering the streets of Manhattan, sweetheart” she would respond whenever a staffing query was brought up. And she was right.

Brittany had strolled in one day with fire behind her, determination in her eyes and an infectious smile. Carole hired her on the spot and taught her to use the espresso machine in under an hour. Kurt couldn’t quite believe his eyes when he considered that she was the same girl that came in and enquired about a job citing unicorns as a source and “Rory the Leprechaun” as her reference. It sure beat how he had dragged himself out of the rain, exhausted and on the verge of tears after yet another failed audition and an overwhelming urge to give up. Carole had served him up some of her best hot chocolate, free with a kick, and offered him a job until he became the star she knew he was destined to be. He couldn’t say no. There weren’t any other offers.

Santana glides in a little after eleven, places the same order as every other day of the year, and perches at the end of the bar where she has a perfect view of the whole cafe – but especially Brittany. They were together once and although Brittany isn’t chasing anyone else or hadn’t even been a date since, Santana still watches her every move. She has to know. She has to see it with her own eyes that the break up wasn’t because she wasn’t good enough; that it was instead because they simply weren’t meant to be. She smiles at Kurt as he walks by and cranks the door open slightly, leaving it ajar. They don’t want to see their customers struggling to get in any more than the general public want to be held back from their caffeine fix. It should be fixed. Burt Hummel offers to help every time he visits but it’s in the cafe’s character, within its very structure so Carole chooses to leave it until it literally falls from its hinges.

“What time does your shift end, Hummel?” Santana calls. She drains the cup and pushes it towards Brittany who just ignores it. Carole eventually rolls her eyes and fixes her up another, not missing the resigned sigh from Santana.

“I get off at seven.” He smiles as he gets the pastries on so they’re the perfect temperature for the lunchtime rush. “Why? Fancy a little duet for the evening lot?”

“You read my mind.” She remarks with a mischievous smirk leading him to wonder what delightfully inappropriate song she has in mind this time.

They do this. Kurt sings out his frustration and Santana is releasing her pain. Brittany watches sometimes and Kurt can’t help but wonder if _this_ will be the performance that fixes everything for them but it never is. They’re all still waiting but he won’t stop trying. And that is how every day goes. It’s mundane and soul-destroying but Kurt can’t help but be thankful for friends and for the happy little parts of the day.

Mr Collignon will come in for a plain croissant and the strongest, blackest coffee they serve and he will leave behind a quick sketch on a napkin, different every time and always a total mystery. It takes almost until the next day when he draws a new one for them to figure out what the first was supposed to be and it’s lovely. Kurt takes pleasure in the wide variety of images Brittany can produce in a latte, his mind boggling at how she does it. He grins every time he sees Carole crinkle her eyes and scrunch her nose, pull at a strand of hair, whenever his dad rings the cafe and she answers. He feels inspired by Santana’s resilience, her determination and how every day she walks into the cafe with her mind set and she won’t stop trying until closing time comes and she goes home alone once more. It’s the little things that make the days pass by easily and quickly. It’s what makes him happy, what keeps him going and trying and never giving up.

It’s why he can so easily ignore that he is lonely, not that he would ever say.

One failed relationship turned out to be enough and that was that. No more. Not even a fresh start in New York City could change his mind.

Around four o’clock, whilst Kurt is out on a toilet paper run, a man of average height with short but wild hair, and the most captivating eyes walks into the cafe, orders a medium drip and sits at the counter until it’s ready. He says his name is Blaine and Brittany hastily scribbles it on the side of the cup, marking it with a tiny daisy at the end. Blaine fiddles with a piece of paper while he waits but when his name is called and his coffee handed over, the paper falls under his stool and he leaves completely unaware.

Two minutes later Kurt returns, complaining about the line in the store and how much the shopkeeper bullies his assistant. The piece of paper catches his eye as he tells his story and tucks the stools back under the counter. He picks it up, pockets it and doesn’t think of it again until his next break when he finally pulls it out and takes a look.

 _Bucket List_ is scrawled across the top in handwriting that, whilst not untidy, could be neater. To the point, Kurt thinks and begins to read more.

 _Finish a song_  
Find **him**  
Get married  
Find a decent coffee shop in Manhattan  
Try food from a street vendor  
Learn a Broadway dance routine  
Meet the love of my life in New York City

Kurt reads it through three times before Santana wanders over, leans down behind him and whispers in his ear, “What you got there, kid?” His body jolts with surprise, nerves fraught with tension and his chest tight with the strength of his gasp.

“Someone left this behind,” He explains when he regains his composure. “It’s very – romantic.”

“A bit sentimental if you ask me.” She dismisses, dropping into the seat next to him and snatching it from his hands.

“Well I didn’t.” He snaps.

Santana merely raises an eyebrow to mock his attempt at actually being angry with her but with another glance towards the list, everything about her softens and she slides it carefully across the table towards him. “You should hold onto it. You never know, the owner might come back for it. My bet’s on the flaming dwarf that walked through here a little while ago.”

Kurt smiles at her attempt at an apology and does exactly what she advises, folding the list in half and stuffing it in his front pocket. As he hums along with the radio and runs through lyrics for his duet with Santana later, his mind never wanders far from the author of such a list. Are they old? Are they talented? What is this song that they’re writing? Could Kurt be their muse? Was this the decent coffee shop they had been looking for? Oh please, please, he thought, come back. He just wants a peek, just a tiny look. He’s never met them and he’s already decided this person is just _fascinating_.

-

“It’s fate!” Rachel declares as soon as he tells her about his day, skimming over his find and yet she still finds ways of pulling it out of him.

“No, it’s not. I have no idea who wrote it.” Kurt drawls. He’s even boring himself now. “I just thought it was sweet, endearing.”

“Kurt,” Rachel spins on the spot and stops with her hands on her hips and looking at him pointedly. “You’re the most jaded person I know. You don’t do sweet and endearing.”

“Well maybe I do now. You don’t know everything about me, Rachel Berry.” Kurt mumbles petulantly. Rachel isn’t wrong but at the same time, she’s extremely wrong. To everyone else he preaches about how relationships are a waste of time, how he will wait until his dying day to find the person he can stand for longer than five minutes. But where no one can see, deep underneath it all?

He desperately wants someone, anyone.

His last relationship was dull and boring and convenient, so after much soul-searching and an endless stream of pro-and-con lists, he ended it. It wasn’t like the musicals said it would be, it wasn’t all magic and butterflies in your tummy and an insane need to know how the other is feeling, what they’re doing and wondering if they’re thinking of you too. It was purely for lack of options. Kurt Hummel arrived in New York City with a heart cast in iron and all the cynicism of a man twice his age. He was done. No more relationships.

It’s different now, though.

He just wants a hug sometimes. He wants someone to hold him until he falls asleep. He wants someone to show him how much they love him carefully, slowly and with so much _feeling_. He craves it every day but he bottles it up, saves it for a rainy day and goes about his life because that person doesn’t exist, they can’t exist. They would have been here by now if they did.

“Please, you’ve been preaching about female independence, singledom and all with a slight hint of abstinence since we both arrived in these dingy apartments. What gives?” She demands to know and so he tells her about the contents of the list. He’s instantly thrilled that she sees what he has seen. She may be irritating, delusional and the most tragic person he knows – but she’s pretty much his other half.  “They are the perfect person. I don’t care if it’s a woman, you forget about being gay and you pursue her until she bows down before your beautiful face and begs you to be hers. This is just – it’s lovely.”

Kurt nods in agreement. “I want to find them. It seems – personal.” He says quietly. “It’s probably really special to someone.”

“You found it at work, right?” Rachel squints like she’s had an idea but he already knows that the words ‘stake’ and ‘out’ are bound to follow with suggestions of a Mission Impossible-style entrance and a declaration of love.

“Yes but I’m not sitting there all day waiting for them to come back.” He appeases her.

“No, but ask around.” She rolls her eyes. “Santana doesn’t do anything. She must have seen someone drop it.”

Kurt lets his mind wander to how it could have been lost. Would Santana have seen anything from the end of the bar? What ‘dwarf’ had she been talking about? “Maybe.” He says instead of voicing his grievances over the idea.

“This person could make you happy, Kurt.” Rachel smiles and he softens towards her a little. She’s obnoxious and she’s crazy but her heart is always in the right place. He just can’t hate her for it. “Even if they are just a friend, you deserve it. So I’ll help you. It can be our little mission alongside scoping out all the hottest Broadway auditions.” She grips his hand and squeezes reassuringly.

He nods gently to contain his enthusiasm but he’s already buzzing with the anticipation of meeting the author. His mind rushes with the possibilities; who are they? Did they abandon the list or simply misplace it? Are they handsome? He can’t wait to find out.

\---

The next day Kurt is woken by a sound he has come to recognise as Rachel practicing for yet another audition. He wishes it had a better use other than driving him up and out of the door. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the effort his neighbour put into her career – it was more than he could say he was doing – it is the fact that she is utterly tone deaf and showing no signs of improvement.

He met Rachel the night he found some old sheet music lurking behind a cabinet in his apartment. He could tell instantly that it was an original score and upon recognising the score, could tell that this was particularly meaningful to whoever wrote it. This meant it had to be returned.

Knocking on the doors of the apartments in his building, and making enemies without even living there a week, he heard the sounds of someone singing at the top of their voice coming from the door opposite his. He could only describe the attempts at a melody as unusual and a pretty decent effort. Just not quite there, nowhere near. Perhaps their composing was better than their singing?

He had knocked on the door carefully, excited to see who the mystery performer was, when not a second later a tiny bundle of tears and wailing noises threw herself into his arms. After calming her down with some tea, determining that the sheet music didn’t belong to her, and finding that her name was Rachel, Kurt listened as she told him about how she had just blown a big audition. As it turned out, Rachel was quite the star prior to some throat surgery that had ruined it all.

“They promised me nothing would change!” She had exclaimed. “But they lied, Kurt! They lied! I’m suing them. My dads are finding me an excellent lawyer and we’re fighting them for every penny. They’ve destroyed my career and I don’t know if I can ever get it back.”

Despite the tears starting again and Kurt feeling ever so slightly uncomfortable, he promised Rachel he would help her find her voice again so that she may one day realise her dream of singing on a Broadway stage – just as long as she took him with her when she soared to the top. Nearly two years later, however, Kurt was as unsuccessful as the day he made the promise and it was really his fault if she continually woke him up with her less than desirable singing because he had advised her to practice, practice, practice.

Kurt attempts to leave his apartment in peace but is soon accosted by Rachel as he is locking his front door.

“Kurt, did you hear me?” She asks frantically, practically shaking with anticipation and she nearly bowls into him in her haste.

“Sure did.” He confirms trying desperately not to give away his annoyance. He can’t think of a single person that would enjoy waking up to that noise.

“And?” She asks. “Come on, you can’t not tell me. Any good?”

“Not just yet but I can tell you’re on your way, Rach.  Just keep going, okay? Now I really have to run or Carole will kill me and then who will you sing to, hmm?” He softens it the best he can but he still has to be honest.

“If your mystery person comes in today I want full details immediately, none of this waiting around ‘til the end of the day!” She demands with a glint in her eye.

“And if I don’t?” Kurt asks warily. He knows what this girl is capable of. She may sing the same damn song every day and she may rarely leave her apartment but she has her ways of getting involved in everything.

“I might just pop along for a visit.” She smirks and runs back into her apartment, leaving Kurt for his long trek to work. He instantly relaxes knowing just how unlikely that eventuality would be. Rachel never visited him at work unless it was a serious emergency. She certainly wouldn’t drag herself away from singing just for some list scribbled on a bit of paper.

The chill in the air catches Kurt as he leaves his building and he all but sprints to the subway station deciding to ditch his morning walk along the river. There are some things he just can’t deal with and freezing cold air drying his skin out _just_ after he had used his most expensive moisturiser was not something he was going to overlook.

He looks around the platform as he waits for his train and notices with some dismay the amount of people waiting to board. So much for getting a seat, he thought to himself bitterly. He briefly contemplates walking but just as he turns to face the exit he is stopped by the sight of a person shorter than himself, with hair that is just _begging_ to be calmed down, and clear, sparkling eyes.

“Oh my.” Kurt whispers to himself as he finds himself fixated on him. The man hasn’t noticed him and honestly Kurt doesn’t think he will. The man is humming to himself and lurking around a nearby photo booth. As he is humming, he is scribbling things down into a large notebook that Kurt can’t help but feel has seen better days. The pages are torn and curling, the spine is cracked and the cover is completely worn. It’s almost some sort of miracle that the owner isn’t in the same condition and _still_ Kurt can’t take his eyes off of him.

He blinks and the man moves. He blinks and the man moves again but this time is snatching the photo strip from the dispenser before the person in the booth can get out and collect it. Kurt doesn’t hear the rumble of a train arriving on the opposite platform and he doesn’t notice the hustle and bustle around him of passengers getting on and off. All he sees is the mystery photo thief and he’s thoroughly convinced he’s in love. He blinks one final time and as his eyes open his man has gone. It is only then that he notices the train departing and resigns himself to defeat. He’ll probably never see him again.

How lucky though that as Kurt’s train rolls into the station, he catches a glimpse of something on the platform floor. The notebook. He pauses for a moment, before quickly barrelling through several passengers to reach it and prevent it being trampled on. Kurt grabs it and dashes onto his train as quickly as he can, and doesn’t stop to breathe until the train is moving.

He tucks it under his arm and refuses to look inside. What if it’s like the list? What if he can’t get it off of his mind? The bigger question he has to wonder though is why these things keep coming to him.

Kurt arrives at work and momentarily forgets about the door until he hears Santana’s laughter as his failed attempt to get in. He throws a scowl her way when he finally gets inside and heads straight for the coffee machine. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He snaps. It’s cruel and he can see that she’s hurt by it. But this is Santana. Her rebound rate is impressively fast and he almost regrets taking her on.

“How are the auditions going?” She throws back knowing it will get him just as good. Kurt takes a deep breath and shakes his head, giving up. It’s not worth it. They’re a family in this shop and though they may fight like siblings, they must stop it like adults. “What’s got your knickers in a twist anyway, Hummel? Not like you to be anything but happiness and fairy dust twenty-four seven.”

He contemplates telling her. Would she laugh at him? Probably. Who wouldn’t? I think I just fell in love with a man on the subway platform, he thinks to himself and has to stifle a laugh. If it sounds ridiculous in his head then it definitely will out loud. “Just had a bad night of sleep, that’s all.” He mumbles but the look in Santana’s eye tells him that she’s well aware he is lying.

She lets him get away with it. “Berry keeping you up all night?”

“Something like that.” He smiles, pouring himself a coffee to wake himself up to reality. This is his life – this shop, Santana, Carole, Rachel and Brittany. Not some lost boy in a train station and a notebook full of secrets.

\---

It’s twenty past four when the door chime sounds and Kurt’s about to change his mind. He rushes out from the back room and nearly stumbles across the coffee shop at the sight of his next customer. He can see Santana from the corner of his eye gesticulating wildly but he just can’t tear his gaze from the man stood before him.

“How can I help?” He manages to choke out and automatically wants to crawl under the counter and never come out.

“Medium drip, please.” The man smiles, handing over more than enough money. “Do you have a tip jar for the change?” He asks so sincerely, generously. Kurt can only point at it dumbly and watch as he places his change there.

“Thank you, I’ll just go get that drink for you. Won’t be a minute.” He wants to cry, he wants to die, he wants the walls to all fall down and to run away as fast as he can. But he can’t. He has to make the man his order. One thing at a time, it will be easy.

“Pssst!” Santana is becoming more vocal. “Hummel, stop ignoring me!”

“What?” He hisses back impatiently.

“Flaming dwarf!” She whispers to him. “The one from yesterday!”

Kurt makes his drink as quickly as the coffee machine will allow and almost throws it over him in his haste to hand it over. “One medium drip!” He almost yells.

The man flashes him a kind smile and thanks him. “Is the blonde girl working today?” He asks, looking a little concerned.

“Would you like me to get her?” He offers – anything to leave this awkward situation. Anything.

“Yes, please. I dropped something in here yesterday, a small bit of paper, and I wondered if she had seen it. She served me so she might have noticed.”

Kurt thought his world was going to collapse around him. The perfect Man of His Dreams was stood before him claiming to be the owner of The List, the very same list that had made Kurt swoon, wonder and obsess. The owner of the list was also the owner of the notebook – no. If Kurt was able to entertain such silliness he would almost think it was fate but he wasn’t of that mind. He couldn’t be. When everything had gone so disastrously wrong up until now, how could there be any other explanation other than coincidence?

He slips his hand into the front pocket of his apron and plays with the edge of the paper for a moment. He contemplates pretending he knows nothing of it but he can’t. The man before him wrote this list for a reason and it’s hardly Kurt’s decision as to whether he has it back or not. “Here.” He whispers pulling it from his pocket and sliding it across the counter towards its owner. “I believe this is yours.”

He doesn’t wait to see the man’s reaction, and he blatantly ignores Santana calling after him. He just escapes to the back room and breathes, just in and out, in and out, over and over until he feels normal again.

Later that evening when he is singing an old Coldplay song, one of his default covers these days, he pretends not to notice the way Carole is looking at him with pity, the way she has stopped what she is doing to lean against the counter and just watch. But there is only so much sadness he can take so he leaves soon after without even hanging up his apron or saying goodbye.

\---

“He was right there, Rachel, and I couldn’t do anything.” Kurt sighs as he winds down with a cup of tea and his neighbour. “All I had to do was take his order and hand him the damn bit of paper.”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting but Kurt? I don’t understand. What is this really all about?” Rachel asks.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He says, noticing the way her eyes light up all of a sudden.

\---

“I hear you met Blaine yesterday. What did you draw on his cup?” Brittany asks when he arrives at work the next day.

“Brit, I see a thousand people every day. Can you be more specific?” He sighs, waiting for his morning coffee patiently.

“She means the guy you were practically drooling all over like an animal, the one with the list.” Santana answers. She’s picking at her pastry but she’s not really eating it. Kurt knows this game, the one where she makes far too much mess on the counter for Brittany to clean up.

“Blaine.” Kurt whispers to himself, testing the name out. He likes it. It suits him. “Yes, I did. He asked after you, Brit.”

Brittany smiled, handing him his coffee before moving to clean up pastry and presumably whisper sweet nothings with her ex-girlfriend. Despite everything they had been through and were still going through, Kurt couldn’t help but be jealous. Yes, he had sworn off of relationships and despite this issue with Blaine, he had no interest in anyone. But it was good to feel loved and to let someone love you. He missed that, more than he thought he would. He remembered the notebook he was hiding in his locker and wondered if Blaine was missing it.

The shop is busy throughout the morning – numerous coffee orders, several burnt fingers from trying to turn over pastries at record speed, and dealing with every single one of Santana’s demands. “Customer is always right.” She grins as Kurt questions what she is playing at.

Kurt doesn’t get a break all the way through until the lunchtime rush is over and by then his fingertips are positively tingling with anticipation; he has to know what is in the notebook. He can’t forget about it anymore. He makes himself a non-fat mocha and takes himself to the back where he wrestles the book from his locker.

There’s a small stool in their tiny, cramped staff room which he decides to perch on. His coffee sits on a nearby shelf and with shaking hands he turns the first page. There are dozens, there must be hundreds. Rows upon rows of stolen photo booth photographs, intertwined with original song lyrics. Kurt frantically flicks through and finds that every page is the same; just lines of different faces, different hairstyles, clothing, with glasses and without. “Who are you, Blaine?” Kurt whispers as he gently runs his fingertips down one of the pages. He’s soon startled out of his reverie though by Brittany.

“Blaine!” She yells and he immediately hears the patter of her quick footsteps to move around the counter towards him.

Kurt freezes. There is no way…

He shoves the notebook back into his locker, not stopping to think about why he isn’t just returning it, and hovers near the doorway to the shop trying to listen. He knows Santana can see him as she raises one eyebrow and smirks at him. Their conversation is simple small talk mostly but he can’t see Blaine, he doesn’t know what’s going on. The only indication that anything unusual is happening is when Santana speaks. “If you’re looking for Hummel, he’s on his break.” She drawls pretending to be completely uninterested whilst stirring her drink.

“W-Who?” Blaine starts, stuttering slightly, but Santana’s not having any of it.

“You know who. Don’t play dumb with me, hobbit.” She sighs, before standing and walking towards the bathroom.

Kurt listens as Brittany gets his coffee together for him and Blaine eventually leaves, glad it’s finally over. “Santana Lopez, what the hell was that?” He demands to know as he finally emerges out into the shop.

She’s just returning from the bathroom with a triumphant smirk wiped across her face. She swishes her long, dark hair around and stands proud before him. “ _That_ was doing you a favour. He was so twitchy, couldn’t stop looking around for you.” She said.

“I never asked you to do anything! I don’t need your help!” He stressed, damning the stinging behind his eyes. “I don’t need you to turn up and fix my life and I _don’t_ need Blaine.”

“Sure you don’t. That will be why you’ve not handed him back his notebook.” She sneers but takes delight in how he visibly pales.

“How-” Kurt whispers. How could she possibly know about that?

“You’re not above us, Kurt. You’re human just like the rest of us so pull your head out of your ass and tell the guy you like him.” Santana finishes victorious and for the first time since Kurt had been working there, she leaves the coffee shop. Even Carole stops to turn and take notice. She has gone and it’s not even three-o-clock. Kurt can’t help but glance towards Brittany, but she doesn’t appear to have even noticed as she carries on wiping down the mechanisms on the espresso machine and putting fresh pastries in the front of the display cabinet.

“Who’s next?” She asks cheerily, stepping towards the till as a new customer enters the shop.

\---

It wasn’t always as simple as Santana could make it seem and she knew that just as much as Kurt ever did. Love is a complicated game and sadly they’d both fallen victim to it. He tugged his cardigan closer around him as the chill set into his apartment. The heater was out, typical. Rachel snuggled into his side and chinked her wine glass against the side of his.

“She’ll be back tomorrow and it will be as if nothing has happened.” She reassured him.

“I know.” He murmurs but it isn’t Santana he’s worried about. How many more times must he see Blaine and have to convince himself that he doesn’t need anyone, that once bitten means twice shy? Kurt Hummel has a reason for everything and there is a very big reason for why he has given up on love. It _always_ hurts him. No, he’d not fallen quite as fast as he has for Blaine, but that doesn’t mean that this time will be any different. He hopes it will be though, he really hopes that one day he can at least _try_ to give him a chance.

“You will have to return the notebook at some point though, Kurt. Art is personal, he probably feels like he’s lost a limb.” Rachel says mournfully and just like that they aren’t talking about Kurt anymore.

“I know.” He whispers this time and rests his head against the top of hers. “He’s so beautiful, Rach. I think I’d like it if he loved me.”

“Then we’ll make it happen.” She smiles sleepily, tugging a throw across their bodies and before either of them know it they are fast asleep, wine and the cold winter air long forgotten.

\---

The next morning Kurt leaves for work and heads straight for the subway station. It’s damp and it smells but it’s not just about having a reprieve from the awful weather this time. Today he’s going to get Blaine’s attention.

He heads straight for the photo booth and sticks a sign onto it, clear as day and to the point:

**_Found:_ **

_Notebook of photos/lyrics_

_Enquire at_ Café de deux Moulins _for information._

That will do, he thinks, and waits for a while on a nearby bench, adorned with sunglasses and a hat to hide himself. Kurt is aware that he looks like a terrible spy, or someone masquerading as a celebrity, but Blaine can’t know yet that it’s him, that he has his book.

Not one to disappoint, Blaine appears ten minutes later with hair considerably tamer than the previous times Kurt had seen him. He is dressed in trousers that just skim his ankles, smart shoes and a novelty bowtie. Kurt has to stifle his laughter and delight. It’s not that he finds Blaine amusing but more the notion that _of course_ he’s in love with this man, of course it’s him. Without a moment more to spare, Kurt’s train pulls into the station and just as he jumps on, he notices Blaine look at the photo booth. He takes a deep breath and sits down, hoping his heart will stop hammering by the time Blaine shows up for the book. It has to, this can’t go wrong.

Santana is waiting for him just like Rachel had said, and even opens the door to the shop for him so his frozen hands could have some respite. “I don’t say this often but I’m sorry. It’s not my place to lecture you on how to conduct your love life, it’s not like I’m doing stellar job with my own over here.” She says without a hint of happiness or remorse. She does, however, mean it. Kurt can tell by her eyes, they refuse to focus on him and when they connect for a brief second, she looks so _hurt_. “I suppose I’ll get a decent latte now you’re here?”

“Only if you pay for it.” Kurt smirks, tapping her on the arm before hanging up his coat and scarf. He goes to his locker to put his bag away and gently touches the notebook he has hidden away. Today, it all ends today, he thinks. As he ties his apron he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and walks out to the counter to start making Santana’s latte.

The morning is busier than usual, Mr Collignon brings a friend and they stay for what feels like hours ordering everything on the menu. The morning rush eventually blends into the lunchtime rush and if this is what Kurt was hoping for in order to relax and regroup, he was hugely mistaken. There was no way he could see Blaine under these conditions.

Only he need not have worried because Blaine wasn’t coming. He hadn’t turned up all day.

It’s quarter to eight and almost closing time for the night. Kurt is on the microphone singing _Blackbird_ by the Beatles when the door finally opens. Santana is sat at a table directly in front of the small, makeshift stage, head propped up by her hands and watching with eyes half shut. At the sound of someone struggling with the door, she turns to look and smiles to herself when she sees him. “Kurt.” She tries whispering but he can’t hear her. “Kurt!” She said a little louder.

“…my notebook? I lost it a few days ago and found a note this morning to come here for it?” Blaine asks, worriedly fumbling with his hands as he asks Brittany. She doesn’t have a clue. How could she? It’s in his locker. He never said anything to anyone so how could she know what to do, what to say?

“I’m sorry, Blaine. I haven’t seen you leave anything behind.” Brittany answers innocently. Kurt can only stand there. How is this happening? This is his moment and he is blowing it, why is he so shy all of a sudden? He can feel Santana’s intense gaze on him but he powers through the song, trying desperately not to let his fear show, his sadness at being completely unable to move.

“No, it wouldn’t have been left here. I – I’m sorry Brittany, maybe I’m wrong. I’d better go. You guys are probably closing up now.” Blaine smiles sadly and ties his scarf on his way out. As soon as the door is closed and Carole moves to lock it, Kurt collapses to sit on the edge of the stage. Santana moves to sit next to him but he bats her away. He can’t deal with her sympathy in that moment. He just made a big mistake, watched a chance at happiness walk through the door and all because he couldn’t just make himself heard.

“Kurt, go after him.” Santana says quietly. But he can’t. All he can do is gather his belongings, put on his scarf and jacket with a sense of focus, not breaking or speaking at all. Carole opens the door for him on his way out and he thinks he hears her say not to worry about work tomorrow but he’s not sure. As if on autopilot he eventually appears at Rachel’s front door with tears in his eyes, a bottle of wine in his hand and a heavy heart to unload. She merely pulls him inside and wraps him in her arms, whispering things he desperately needs to hear.

\---

Kurt decides to forget about Blaine for a little while. The boy with the magic list, amazing fashion sense and never-ending creativity was going to have to wait because Kurt has his life to get back to. He will tell himself this over and over each morning and one day, when Blaine pops in as he usually does, it stops hurting so much and soon he’s almost forgotten he even has his notebook.

Sometimes Kurt thinks he’s caught Blaine looking at him for a second too long but others he convinces himself it must have been someone behind him. On one occasion, Blaine tries to speak to him about the menu but then Brittany is suddenly throwing latte glasses at the ground and throwing a tantrum.

“Brittany!” Kurt yells as he races around the counter to stop her. “What’s going on?”

He notices Santana with her head down, feebly stirring sugar into a cup of coffee. If Kurt had looked hard enough he would have noticed that she is crying, but desperately trying to hide it.

“I can’t work with her around here anymore!” Brittany cries, pointing at Santana. “All she does it make me feel terrible about myself. We broke up, Santana. We broke up ages ago!”

It was happening. The moment Santana was waiting for, where she had to see for herself that it just wasn’t meant to be. It was here, right now. Brittany is finally letting her go.

“I’m sorry, Brit.” She chokes out, quickly wiping under her eyes in case too many people notice. “I didn’t know.”

“Sam loves me, Santana. I’m not leaving him for you. You’re still my best friend, you always will be, but I think you have to go.” Brittany says quietly.

Santana shakes her head and finally looks to Kurt for help, for advice. She had earned it after the countless meltdowns he had exhibited over recent months.

“Brit, go take your break. I’ll carry on here.” He says softly, placing his hands on her shoulders and guiding her in the right direction. He nudges her gently towards their back room before running his hands through his hair and looking at all the smashed glass. It’s Carole’s day off, he’s by himself. He starts gathering the shards of glass, careful not to cut himself and by the time he has a handful he notices another pair of hands. They aren’t Santana’s perfectly manicured nails or even Brittany’s short, bitten ones. It’s Blaine, perfect, helpful, do-gooder Blaine. “You don’t have to.” He says softly, trying not to look at him in case he does something silly. It’s a miracle he can even talk.

“Please, let me?” Blaine asks gently, taking Kurt’s free hand for a moment. Kurt stares at the connection and tries to ignore the way it’s making him feel. He doesn’t need this right now, he needs to help Brittany. But he nods anyway and let’s go. He gets up to find a broom which Blaine immediately takes from him due to the large queue of waiting customers. Kurt flashes him a grateful smile and attends to them. He doesn’t even notice that Santana has left or that Blaine has followed her until the queue dies down and he realises that once again, he is on his own. It’s what he does best, so he tries not to feel too sad about it. It has, however, invigorated new hope within him.

He grabs a company napkin on his way out and hastily scribbles a message onto it. He glanced up at the coffee shop fondly but he knows there is something stirring within him. It might be time. He takes his time as he walks back to the subway station, takes in the sight of the stores that line the cobbled streets. He breathes in the smell from the Magnolia Bakery and nods at a passer-by who offers him a brief smile. He loves this part of town and would hate to leave it for no good reason. He contemplates taking the Highline to one of the stations but decides he prefers it in the morning when the air is fresh and his mind is clearer.

When the train stops near his building, he gets out and with a confidence he is sure he shouldn’t be feeling, he sticks the napkin to the photo booth and walks away. It’s not up to him anymore.

_Please come back. I’m sorry._

\---

There isn’t any sign of Blaine the next day like he had hoped but Rachel does call him screaming down his cell phone about an audition that…

“…you simply must attend, Kurt! It’s perfect for you!” Rachel screams as she rushes around her apartment. Kurt can tell she’s a little frantic and it makes him smile despite himself. “It’s tomorrow, please make sure you go! You don’t know when another opportunity will come up.”

She was right. It had been so long since his last audition that he barely knew where to start anymore, he didn’t even know if he _could_ do it anymore. He’s grinning as he takes the details and hangs up the phone. “Carole-” He starts, ready to ask for the day.

“It’s all yours. Break a leg, Kurt. You deserve it.” She smiles and pulls him in for a hug. She isn’t quite the mother he never had but she certainly fills some of the gaps his mother left behind.

“You’re not too big to fetch me a latte, superstar.” Santana smiles at him, reaching across the counter to grasp his hand supportively. She hadn’t heeded Brittany’s request. She was back the very next day, dolled up to the nines. It was as if it never happened.

He spends the rest of the day singing show tunes to the customers, happy to be performing something other than the melancholy, wistful songs of recent times. He finds himself lost in the music, enjoying the feeling of falling into character and demonstrating what he can do so effortlessly. It feels liberating.

His audition the next day goes better than he could have ever expected. He sings the song to the best of his ability and for once feels good about what he has done. The directors offer him some great feedback and tell him he’ll hear from them within a week. It’s all moving so quickly but this is what he came to New York for. This is what his life should have been seven years ago. Leaving Lima for New York didn’t mean working in a coffee shop full time with months between auditions. It was supposed to be about freedom; freedom to be who he is, love who he wants and the freedom to do whatever he wants to do.

Full of a confidence that he hadn’t felt for a very long time, Kurt strolls into the café through the back door and turns once again to the notebook in his locker. It’s time now. Blaine deserves to have it back and with his life falling back into place? Kurt feels ready for whatever outcome. He removes it from the locker and places a note inside it, on the first empty page.

Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for onslaught of questions and general excitement from his friends, he makes to step out onto the shop floor. Blaine is already there. He’s leaning back against the counter, moving closer to Santana as he speaks and watching her eyes light up dangerously. He must say something funny because Santana positively howls with laughter, grabbing his arm as she does and sliding her hand along it.

This can’t be happening, Kurt thinks. How did I get it so wrong?

As her laughter dies, Santana looks away from Blaine and catches Kurt’s eye. She begins to gesture for him to come over but notices the betrayal all too late. “Kurt?” She calls quickly. “Kurt, wait up!”

But he’s already gone. Notebook on the floor, back door wide open. He’s gone.

Santana chases behind the counter to follow him but when she gets to the door she realises there isn’t any hope. She sighs, holding her hair out of her face. She hisses all the curse words she knows to herself and slams the back door shut with frustration.

“Oh my god.”

She hears the tiny voice from behind her as she turns to see Blaine crouching on the floor, tenderly holding the tattered notebook with a hand over his mouth.

It’s okay, Santana tells herself, this can be fixed. It’s okay.

\---

_Blaine,_

_I’m so sorry I held onto this for so long. It wasn’t my place, and I should have returned it the day I saw you in the shop._

_You inspire me, Blaine. You stand so tall because you know who you are – your creativity, your self-expression, your kindness._

_I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you._

_But I can’t hold onto this anymore. It’s yours and you need it back._

_I can’t play games with you anymore._

_Yours, Kurt._

\---

“I’m going to kill her. She can’t do this to you. I didn’t even think she was interested in men!” Rachel exclaims once Kurt has told her everything.

He sighs, because he has shed so many tears over this man and his notebook that he’s run out. There’s no more steam in the engine to worry about Blaine anymore. “It’s okay. It just confirmed what I always thought, that I’m better off on my own.” He says quietly.

“No, no! That’s not true, Kurt! You’re going to hear back about this show and you’re going to get the part! You’ll have your pick of Broadway and you’ll never, ever feel alone again.” Rachel tries to encourage him but it’s falling on deaf ears.

Kurt’s phone won’t stop ringing, Santana’s name flashing over and over again. He just needs a bit of time, some time to stop thinking so much about what he’s just learned and to just move on.

It’s only when the bell for his apartment rings that he pays some sort of attention.

“Hello?” He answers gingerly, wondering who it could be. No one but his dad ever visits. Rachel immediately rushes to the window to get a peek at the stranger below.

“Kurt? Is that you?” A man’s voice asks, breathless and desperate.

“It’s him! He has the notebook, Kurt it must be!” Rachel is hissing at him from where she stands with the curtain pulled back. “Oh he’s handsome.”

“Y-yes.” He stumbles over the single word, the hardest word to say with the lump that just appeared in his throat.

“Kurt, you have to let me in, I know it was you.” Blaine pleads.

Kurt almost feels sorry for him. But it’s like when he was singing _Blackbird_. He’s frozen and he just can’t do it. _This_ is his moment. Not any of the other moments that had been and gone. This is it. He just can’t take it.

“I’m sorry I took your book.” He says instead, immediately berating himself for being so stupid. Blaine’s probably freezing out there, he thinks to himself.

“He’s shivering.” Rachel says slowly and sadly, as if reading his mind.

Okay, think Kurt. What do you want? What will you do? He thinks, thoughts racing a mile a minute through his mind desperately trying not to scramble. He needs them to make some sort of sense, even when he is ignoring the one big thing that his mind won’t stop flashing in front of his eyes.

_Go to him._

He can’t do this anymore. This is it.

\--

Santana sits in the café wondering if she’s done the right thing. She gave him Kurt’s address. She told him everything she knew which admittedly wasn’t a lot. She glances to Brittany and feels the usual pang of guilt hit her right in the stomach. She hasn’t been good to her and she’s never done the right thing by her. All she did was leave her, break up with her and then torture her every day with her presence.

It needed to change.

“Thanks, Brit.” She said, swallowing the choke that almost broke free, taking her change and pocketing it. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Brittany nods and smiles, turning her attention to the next customer. Santana stands and pauses by the door to have a last look around. She catches Carole’s attention, who smiles at her sadly, waving discreetly. Santana blows her a kiss, straightens her back and walks through the troublesome door with a smile on her face. If she keeps it there long enough it might just appear genuine.

\---

“It was you,” Blaine says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew it would be.”

Kurt blushes and tries to hide behind the door frame as much as he possibly can. The idea that Blaine had noticed him like that at all, let alone considered that he was the _one_ , the one he needed to find is – well, nothing short of overwhelming. “How?” He asks carefully, although he does wonder if it’s even necessary. He’s got what he wanted, hasn’t he? Does he really need to know how Blaine got there?

“Well at first, I hoped. But then Brittany and Santana said some things and here I am. I’m so sorry I didn’t speak to you properly sooner. I’d leave every day and kick myself for not even trying. You must have thought I didn’t care. But I did, Kurt. I’m fascinated by you, your voice – everything!” Blaine smiles, a little bashful and thrumming with nervous energy, like he thinks there is any possibility of rejection.

“Wow,” Kurt breathes, pulling the door open a little more as though Blaine had somehow earned it. “This is just – I never thought – I was so wrapped up in making you chase that I never considered that – well, _this_!”

Blaine is laughing now, a grin so wide that his face could split into two. “You’re adorable.” He manages to say between bouts, and delights in the way Kurt looks down and chuckles a little to himself. “It feels like I’ve been looking for you forever.”

Kurt’s glances up so quickly that he is surprised he doesn’t pull a muscle in his neck. He looks into Blaine’s eyes, drowning in his sincerity and just how _earnest_ he is with his feelings. It feels like being winded, having someone actually want him and to be with him in every way. He takes a deep breath and lets the fresh dose of oxygen fill his lungs, give his brain a little more to work with. His heart is hammering in his chest and almost forcing him forwards into Blaine’s waiting arms, waiting life. He could have this, if he wants it. He could have his coffee shop job, his Broadway dreams and he could have _Blaine_ , all singing all dancing and all love. Besides, Rachel would probably kill him if he didn’t.

“Do you want to come in?” He asks softly, opening the door all the way. “I promise I don’t have any coffee.”

“Sounds perfect.” Blaine responds, smile dropping but intensity increasing in his eyes. As he passes by the door, he hooks his hand around Kurt’s elbow and lifts himself to press a gentle but assured kiss on his cheek. He lingers a moment before finally letting go and stepping aside to wait. Kurt knows he’s made the right choice. He _needs_ this, he wants it and so he’s going to take it.

As he closes the front door, he gently places his hand in Blaine’s and pulls in the direction of his apartment. If he hears a squeal of excitement from the apartment next door, or hears the jingle of his ringtone over and over, he ignores it. Just for this moment, it’s all Blaine. They drink tea and consider all the times they could have just spoken to each other before Kurt can no longer take it and leans in to kiss him. When they kiss it’s slow and careful but the intent is clear. Their lips touch a final time. Kurt traces his fingertips up Blaine’s thigh and along his body until he can remove the teacup from his hand and replace it with his fingers. With lips still connected, Kurt gives a small tug on Blaine’s hand and pulls him into the bedroom. Their eyes connect for a brief moment when they finally pull apart and yes, Kurt thinks, he is everything I’ve ever wanted. He shuts the door with a shy smile and falls into his arms, into his life and vows to never leave.

 


End file.
